Crime Syndicate: Intertwined Evil
by Scourge The Hedgehog
Summary: A story of the creation of the greatest team of evil-doers. The greatest villains on the planet are recruiting each other to begin a reign of terror. Whether it be for sport, revenge, power, wealth, or otherwise. The Earth is in for a shocker. After all, evil is at it's strongest...when it's accepted. AU.
1. The First Meeting

He didn't have far to run.

The plant was only so large, and his pursuer was slowly dislodging the pratfalls resting above the chemical containers. If he didn't get out of here soon, there won't be a "him" tomorrow.

His nemesis always seemed to be one step ahead of him.

He had programmed the phaser to find the correct world.

The pratfall shook as he grasped the closest railing, balancing himself. The end was here. Just a few feet away.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Pain, exhaustion, and the shock of the quake all rattled the interior of his body as though he had been struck by a boulder.

The window was right there. Victory!

He gathered what was left of his strength and made a great leap.

Good timing too, as no sooner were his legs in the air that the pratfall was lost to the chemical pit below.

His free hand reached out to the window as gravity already began to pin him down.

Closer...closer...closer...

His finger brushed the edge of the open window as his weight failed him.

So, this was how it ended? Running like some common thug, only for disintegration by volatile chemicals?

Disgraceful when he thought about it.

So be it.

His final act of defiance.

As he fell, he turned the knob that activated the warp program.

With luck, the device would find a world of heroes.

With a quick toss, the device was about to begin it's maiden voyage...Only for a bladed projectile to intercept it in the air.

"NOOOOO!" He shouts, as the last thing he sees is his final hope dashed, as an explosion takes it out of this world...before he promptly follows suit.

* * *

A productive week. The most powerful opposition was destroyed. Time to move on to better things.

Bruce Wayne emits a loud sigh, as he brings the wine to his lips, and takes a slight sip.

The Owlman, he called himself. After his parents were killed during a hostage situation by police forces, Bruce Wayne dedicated himself to battling the forces of law and order. It wasn't the police force's fault per say that the perp was a homicidal maniac that would've killed them anyway. It was the fact that they didn't shoot when they had the chance. That they would negotiate with evil as opposed to striking it down when it manifested itself. That they would propose a fake peace in which people lived blissfully ignorant to the despicable world around them. THAT was what made heroes...Hell, law itself...flawed. One couldn't scribble common sense on parchment and pray to powers-that-really-aren't that people would follow. They will NOT follow.

Then it dawned on him. Evil was more powerful than good. Evil was everywhere. Evil did the things good wouldn't. Evil got things done. Evil controlled. Evil saved, in it's own twisted way. And...Evil was fun. Did that make him a hypocrite? Maybe. He didn't care.

Bruce used his parents' inheritance to travel the world. Learned martial arts, educated himself in Criminology, Psychology. Every discipline. To use the law's techniques against it.

He chose to don a costume that would strike fear into the hearts of inferior men. Kindness was a cowardly, superstitious, fledgling feeling that left the same impact a dust particle left on the air.

Needless to say, he skinned the perp alive after that. Tossed the body and skin into the police station as a message. Got Commissioner Gordon's attention, it did.

Started a minor crime spree. Robbery, murder, grand arson. Tangled with heroes like the Jester and Alleycat.

Grew emboldened; moved past rookie mistakes. Defeated hero after hero, time and again.

And now he was here.

Back to the present, he supposed.

Sitting in front of him was Clark Kent. A big burly jock of a man. The type you'd expect to be the captain of a college varsity team.

Of course, nobody would believe he was an alien invader.

The Ultraman, he called himself. Emissary of a militaristic planet known as Krypton. The planet was considered one of the most powerful in the universe, only for bureaucratic corruption inadvertently causing it to destroy itself through an ambitious general's insane mental breakdown. Kal-El of Krypton chose to flee the planet, leaving his family and people to their well-deserved fate. Smarter than he looked, thought Wayne. Less competition that way.

Like Wayne, he donned a costume; caused chaos. Despite having the same disposition, they couldn't have been two different people.

"So, why am I here?" Asks Kent irritably. "What's stopping me from vaporizing you and helpin' myself to your vault?"

Kent seemed to have three expressions: Royally pissed off, impatient, and bloodthirsty barbaric smile.

"Kryptonite-laced wine, for one." Says Wayne, giving a hardened stare to his benefactor slash possible business rival. "That, and an opportunity."

Kent's eyes go wide as the wine takes effect. Wayne hadn't put much in there. Enough to tire Kent out, but not enough to induce incapacitation.

"You mother-!" Kent starts.

"Relax, this isn't a fight." Says Wayne. "But a man has to protect himself, you know. Besides, if our positions were reversed under the same circumstances, you'd have done the exact same thing. That's part of why I asked you here."

Kent's eyes relax somewhat, though the sting of being outsmarted was written on his face like a child's scribbles. That was a start.

"You got me there." He relents. "Now start talking. And keep it short. I like short."

"Good man." Says Wayne. "Alfred, some more wine. The...non-drugged brand. I think Mister Kent won't be an issue. As I was saying..."

Wayne sits back down, resting one leg over the other. His toes curled in anticipation as he looked the Kryptonian square in the eye.

"Have you ever worked in a team before, Mister Kent?" Asks Wayne.

"Why would I need to do that? I'm already the strongest super on Earth." Replies Kent.

Kent was arrogant, but he wasn't entirely wrong. The Ultraman was well-known among the villain community as one of the best. Even though he's only been active for what, two and a half years now? A phoenix rising from the ashes, if you will. Unfortunately, his ego and knowledge of his strength made committing grander crimes insignificant to him, as all he had to do was fart to send lessers running, screaming. Made learning his secret identity child's play. Of course, Wayne kept that tidbit to himself until just recently. After all, Kent never had any REAL competition. Until now, anyway.

"So, you think robbing armored cars daily and killing sprees are the epitome of power?" Asks Wayne sarcastically. "I know you aren't the 'rule the world' type. Neither am I. But, haven't you dreamed of something...bigger?"

Kent was starting to get annoyed. The only reason he was even here was because Wayne and him were neck-and-neck in the villain pecking order right now. Whether out of respect or some ill-planned bout of espionage gone wrong, Kent came anyway. It was clear there were SOME gears running in that viking mind of his.

"What are you gettin' at?"Asks Clark.

"A syndicate." Replies Wayne. "Not those petty-ante mobs you see in old TV shows or video games. A fighting force. A force of ambition. A team of super-powered individuals that will take the things one super alone never could."

"A team-up?" Asks Clark skeptically.

"Precisely." Says Wayne."But not for a single job. I'm thinking something more...permanent."

"Why?" Asks Kent, whose body was beginning to stabilize. Wayne shot a glance to Alfred as the butler took his wine away. "We're costumed killers and thugs. The whole idea is to rely on yourself for this kinda thing. Wouldn't gathering killers and thieves into a group be the same as paintin' bulls-eyes on every one of 'em?"

So Kent wasn't entirely dumb. Ironic, considering he accepted the laced wine of a complete stranger, but somehow dabbled in social tactics.

"Maybe." Replies Wayne. "But that's why the team will have both a leader, and an overarching goal. A glue that forces these so-called killers and thieves to tolerate one another and work together. I never said we all had to like each other."

"Sounds like a sinkin' ship waitin' to happen." Replies Kent. "Besides, why would we trust one another? A good team only works if it's members work in tandem. And villains ain't exactly a social lot."

"Oh, but the trip to land would be worth the...atmosphere." Says Wayne. "Besides, trust is earned, not established. And if trust doesn't ensure obedience, intimidation or blackmail are always viable substitutes. After all, intimidation is what's sitting your rear on that couch right now, isn't it?"

Wayne sports another smile, as Kent briefly raises a fist.'

"And spare me the 'tough guy' act. You were threatened by me, which is why you're even here." Wayne adds in monotone. "And that's fine, we've both been running each others' demises through our heads since our eyes first met. But I intend to take this...another direction."

Again, Wayne looks him directly in the eye. It irked Kent to have a social equal, Wayne knew that much. But if Kent really wasn't interested, he would've just killed Wayne the moment he strolled on in. He wasn't exactly a hard fellow to read.

Kent stifles a yell as he sits back down, crossing his arms like a temperamental child. An audible CRACK is heard as he does so. Shame. That couch was twenty thousand dollars.

"Sigh...Say I'm in. How would we go about this?" Clark finally asks.

"Before a team can be formed, members must be scouted. We can't just grab any Joe KickaDog off the street. We need useful benefactors." Says Wayne, swirling his wine. "My sources have notified me of an island called Themiscyra. An island full of female tribals who repel any and all male presence. I caught ear of one in particular, named Diana. Like you, she has super-strength and speed; and a psychopathic personality you might find charming. Only problem is, she's never left that island. That's where we come in."

"An island full of babes?" Asks Kent with a mixture of confusion and intrigue. "How does that work exactly?"

"I don't know. My source was impaled by a weapon before she could give me any more details." Replies Wayne. "Only through audio communique do I have the Intel I have now."

"So, are we stormin' the place?" Asks Kent.

"Nothing so savage." Replies Wayne. "Besides, storming it would be suicide. According to classified government documents, the island has a reputation for killing any and all invaders. And nobody's conquered it yet. Even with your strength, it's best to assume she's at your level. A full-on assault would be risky, and will only prompt her to reply in kind. Thus, more competition and a wasted opportunity."

"Okay Smartypants, what do you suggest then?" Asks Clark, extending an arm in exasperation. Poor man had no finesse.

"I intend on planting a custom-made bomb along the base of the island. That will ensure they don't attack us on sight. Intimidation will force Diana to consult with us to disarm it. Then we give the proposition. If things go south, I have a getaway planned, with the two of us detonating the bomb. The subsequent explosions will cause a fallout within the island that will render it uninhabitable, as well as sink it into the sea. Either way, we have collateral."

"And where do I fit into this, exactly?" Asks Kent. "I just the muscle?"

"Yes and no." Replies Wayne. "Yes, your battle prowess will help should we need to fight, but the male presence will throw Diana off of her game. Change in routine has an odd effect on people, especially xenophobes like the Amazons. I'm coming too, but I need to stay out of the thick of things to maintain the bomb. Your also my Plan B. Should the bomb not work, you're to demolish the island before Diana turns on us. In essence, you are a mobile nuclear strike."

"And how am I getting paid?" Asks Kent.

"Didn't you hear what I said? This goes beyond monetary gain! Money is nothing to either of us!" Says Wayne. "We both do this for the sport. The exercise is your payment. Besides, you've been skulking around Metropolis restlessly for the past month. This is your first real job in ages. Isn't it?"


	2. The Paradise Island Job

**Author's Note: I'm not too proud of this chapter, but I needed a bridging point for the next one. I also intend to release a brief synopsis of this universe's history, to give context. It won't be an epitaph or anything, but it should provide background on these established characters.**

He never worked pro-bono.

That's what Clark Kent AKA Ultraman thought to himself as the ocean blazed past the submarine window.

If you were good at something, never do it for free.

When he started the whole villain gig, he took that to heart like a personal oath.

But when you had everything, what did it mean? When you were the best at what you did, could you really say you were good at it, or was it just natural instinct?

Owlman was right, as manipulative as he obviously was. Money wasn't a commodity for them, it was a daily grind. Money was to them what breathing was to...well...he supposed, everything?

But the feeling you get when people shit themselves at your very presence; showing devastating strength. Practically playing football with the damn moon. Feeling like a Super. THOSE were the kind of things Ultraman lived for. The thrill of being. Sure,you could take it all over and lord over people. But the world would just become another item in your collection.

And once people were a part of your collection, well...You couldn't really show it off, could you?

"Another hour and we'll arrive." Says Owlman from the scope. "You remember the game plan, yes?"

"Blackmail goons with the bomb to talk to the head bitch; get head bitch to agree through diplomacy, nuke the place if she insists otherwise." Ultraman replies in monotone.

"Very good." Says Owlman. "The bomb has been primed through remote-control, but no doubt that her soldiers will attempt to tamper with it; provided they haven't already. If it detonates pre-maturely, I can count on your freezing breath, correct?"

"Still don't see why I can't watch the bomb." Asks Ultraman "Diplomacy ain't my thing."

"A good opportunist will use any means to get his way." Replies his ally. "Destruction only gets half of it done."

"Says the weaker guy." Jokes Ultraman.

"This 'weaker guy' almost killed you without raising so much as a finger." Says Owlman with a chuckle. "Think about that."

The two share a brief laugh as the submarine continues on it's way.

* * *

Parking the submarine wasn't an issue once Owlman activated the cloaking device. Any marine life that came into contact with it would be fried by electromagnetic shocks. Well, that's what Owlman said, anyway.

Ultraman didn't really get the egghead stuff of it all. Granted, he had Bachelors in a few subjects back in college, but he retained little of it.

He preferred to let his fists do the talking.

Heh, that probably made him come off as a dumb musclehead.

But he knew people.

You didn't need to know the molecular mass of an atom to know that a guy's afraid of dogs. Y'know? (Of course, he had a Kryptonian wolf, but that was a story for another day.)

Questions. And a bit of intimidation. That's all it took.

Owlman knew that. That's one of the things Kent respected this..."rival" for.

The island looked like something out of a nature documentary.

Trees covered the landscape, while roman-styled bridges made up what seemed like an entryway.

"Very Greece-like, isn't it?" Asks Owlman.

"Awful pretty-fied compared to what I expected." Says Ultraman.

"My source said they fancy this a utopia. Paradise always shows the illusion of beauty." Replies Wayne. "Shame it never actually is."

No sooner had they stepped onto the marble bridgeway did armored women greet them with pointed weapons.

The armor resembled that of ancient Rome, with more stylized earpieces and helmets.

Swords, spears, and shields were brandished by every woman there.

"Invaders!" Shouts one. "Foreigners, much less men, are not wanted here!"

"Your lives are forfeit!" Says another.

"Relax." Says Ultraman. "Wer're emissaries. We seek to speak with one Diana."

"You believe lies such as that will work!?" Asks one of the Amazon soldiers. "No man gets in or out."

"Where's your diplomacy now, Einstein?" Asks Ultraman to Owlman.

"Fine, you caught us. However, you are not in the position to bargain. There is a bomb underneath this landmass." Says Owlman. His tone was much more threatening than it was before. "One push of a button will detonate it, turning Themiscyria into the next Atlantis. We demand to speak with Diana."

"And man shows it's true colors." Says what appears to be the lead soldier. "Kill these fools."

"You bitches suicidal or somethin'?" Asks Ultraman.

"If you had a bomb, you wouldn't do something so stupid as announce it on an enemy's home turf!"

So much for diplomacy, then. The bluff failed. They had no intentions on blowing this place up until they had at least made contact with Diana.

"Guess we'll move to Plan B." Says Owlman. "Ultraman, if you would?"

"Now you're talkin' my language!" Shouts Ultraman.

Ultraman aims his gaze upon one of the soldiers, as orange beams reduce the target to ashes.

"Sorcery!" Shouts one. "Death to the wizards!"

The area becomes packed with soldiers as they reveal themselves from trees and underground passages.

Four women stand out in particular as they seemingly man the bridge connecting Themiscrya to the shore.

Owlman and Ultraman smile at each other as they leap into the fray.

Ultraman finds himself surrounded by four soldiers as they futilely stab him. However, the weapons bend upon contact with his skin, as though they were wet Ramen noodles. The soldiers steel themselves to mask their fear, as one tries to punch him. Ultraman grabs the woman, pinning both of her arms with his hands, before pulling violently. As the mess falls unto the floor, Ultraman throws the now-separated arms at the group, the force of which knocks them to the ground. Before they can retaliate, the villain freezes them in place with his mighty ice breath. With a giddy smile, Ultraman snaps his fingers against the ice scupltures as his strength causes them to calmly shatter to pieces.

Owlman meanwhile trades blows with five of the soldiers, who think they have him pinned down. One tries a punch, as her hand is twisted in response.

Another tries a kick, only for Owl to dodge, quickly breaking ground to catch her in a headlock. One snapped neck later, Owlman throws down a smoke pellet.

The soldiers move their weapons to their faces, as if to block any incoming attacks. Owlman opens his utility belt. With a Grappling-hook device, he aims it at the branch of a nearby tree. Using the aerial momentum gained from the hook's pulley mechanism, he throws down three Owl-rangs into the smoke, which explode with force upon touching the ground. The force trips up the enemies, (while the smoke rapidly fades away) as he uses a quickly-grabbed fourth Rang to stab an enemy's exposed jugular upon landing back down. The other two back-flip back into combat stance. They were experienced, but not enough.

Owlman aims his left fist towards them, as darts find their way into the exposed necks of the other two. The darts were filled with a non-lethal substance that induced paralysis in the body. Unlike Ultraman, who reveled in the destruction of his foes, Owlman couldn't care less if they lived or died, as long as his purpose was fulfilled.

After another minute of fighting, the majority of the welcoming squad was incapacitated, dead or otherwise.

The Four Generals begin walking towards the two villains as the rest of the squad enters into a Phalanx formation.

"Lets turn these bitches into a finely red carpet, huh?" Says Ultraman, a devilish smirk on his face.

* * *

Same old trees, same old island.

She's seen it a thousand times before.

Damn her bitch of a mother.

Naming her queen long before her time.

Diana had always shown curiosity towards the outside world, even after all of the covert Soviet/French incursion attempts.

It was her mother's way of keeping her chained to this prison.

In theory, she could leave at any time.

But why wouldn't she?

It wasn't her fellow Amazons. They were as rigidly disciplined as an erect member. Automatons from the day of creation.

She despised how easily they bent over backwards in compliancy.

Fear?

No. No way. She'd eviscerated dozens of male invaders before. The outside world sounded like a weak place. Easy to conquer.

But she had heard stories. Myths of people larger than life. Super-powered beings that fought to protect or destroy. Blessed with gifts like those she possessed.

She had no fear. She had interest.

Then what kept her tethered here...?

She tried to claw her mind for an answer, but resounding footsteps abruptly ended her mental sojourn.

"Milady, invaders!" Says a female voice behind Diana.

"How many?" She asks the soldier.

"Only two men." Says the goon. "They demand to speak with you. They threaten Armageddon otherwise."

"They're men." Says Diana. "Cattle. Kill them."

"They have bested three of the Four Generals, and have taken the Fourth as a hostage." Says the soldier. "One flys! Another is a walking armory!"

Very few things scared the disciplined Amazons.

FBI, European Agencies, Swords-for-hire from Man's World. This was nothing to the hardened women of Themiscyra.

But two men managed to take down a small army in little over an hour? With barely any resources?

Maybe this WAS serious.

"Fine. Take me there."

* * *

The sight impressed Diana more than anything.

Dead soldiers everywhere. Some crawling away in tactical retreat, entrails everywhere. The heads of Three of the Generals on the ground like stray coconuts. Arms and legs litter the rest of the way as blood from the giblets tainted the beauty of the marble walkway.

Diana looked on as the visage of the two invaders of Themiscyra comes into view. One in a blue/red ensemble, the other wearing sliver-lined armor; mettalic feather-blades adorning the backside. The blue-suited one had in a headlock the Fourth General, who continuously struggled to get free. Punches and kicks did nothing, apparently.

"Queen Diana of Themiscyra." Said the owl-armored one, bowing in menacingly fake courtesy. "Charmed. I am Owlman. My rambunctious partner is Ultraman."

"I don't give a shit who you are." Says Diana, a smirk on her face. "You two have brass balls to single-handedly invade my island. And slaughter my Generals no less."

"And if you don't talk to us, well kill this fourth little gem." Says Ultraman, putting force on his hostage's neck for emphasis.

"Go ahead." Says Diana. "They mean nothing to me."

"Bluffing ain't gonna work." Says Ultraman.

"I'm not bluffing." Replies Diana. "I really couldn't care less about her. Soldiers are designed to be cannon fodder. If they die, so what? Less mouths to feed."

Ultraman abruptly snaps the neck of his hostage, throwing the body into the giblet-lined floor.

Diana shows literally no interest in the fate of her ally. The soldier next to her is accordingly stunned, but doesn't seem completely surprised.

Ultraman hides an internal smile which Owlman notices.

"Now that that's out of the way, what the fuck are you trying to accomplish here?" Asks Diana, crossing her arms.

"We've come to you with a business proposition." Asks Owlman. "Though I must note that if you don't at least hear us out, I have a bomb set up underneath the island that will slam this island into the sea. So, food for thought."

"Alright." Says Diana. "But we're talking privately. Not in front of the help. Ladies, leave us."

"But Milady...?" Asks the soldier next to her.

"Did I fucking stutter?!" Asks Diana angrily, staring her assistant down.

"V-Very well, My queen." Says the assistant. "I shall return to the square."

The soldier runs away down the bridgeway as Diana ushers the two men further down the shore.

The beach hamlet had a private, isolated feeling to it.

The two male villains exchange a glance.

"Me and my partner here are forming a team of super-powered individuals." Says Owlman.

"And let me guess, you want me to join?" Asks Diana.

"We're gonna take what one Super can't on their own." Says Ultraman.

"Why?" Asks Diana. She wasn't belittling them. Testing them more like. "What is there to take I would want?"

"Your freedom, for one." Says Ultraman.

Now THAT got her attention. She's only known these bozos for five minutes and they're already proposing the one thing she wanted.

"Word is that you ain't ever left this place, right?"Asks Ultraman. "What if we freed you from here?"

"Trading one master for another? No thanks." Says Diana. "I will not be lorded over by two men for any reason. Freedom is unconditional. No strings attached. You two seem like puppeteers."

"There is no 'I' in team, Queen Diana." Says Owlman. "Me and Ultraman do not control one another. We instead use our talents to aid one another. Friendly competition aside. The team's only goal is to pursue it's own whims."

"You're obviously choosing your words, little man." Asks Diana. "Have you been spying on me?"

"In a sense." Says Ultraman. "One of Owlman's flunkies told us about you. Well, before she got a face-full of spear."

"Freedom to do whatever you wish. Take some food, kill a pervert. Buy some ice cream, make someone eat their own excrement." Says Owlman. "That is what the Crime Syndicate will be centered around. Taking what we want. Because we can."

Without warning, Diana hefts a punch at Owlman, sending him careening into the nearest tree.

The lashing-out came literally out of nowhere.

"Fucking man-snakes!" Shouts Diana. "If I want my freedom, I'll take it myself. You two spy on me, come onto my island, play with MY pawns, and then have the gall to trick me into joining your little gang!?"

"If you can take your freedom, why haven't you yet?" Asks Owlman, taking the opportunity to egg her on. "You've had ample opportunity. All that time trapped here by obligation. How quaint."

Diana rushes at Owlman again, only this time intercepted by Ultraman, who elbows her back.

"We think you're scared." Says Ultraman. "Ooh! The big bad world is new to me, so it must be dangerous! Pussy. Expand you're vag!"

That did it. Diana digs into her belt and takes out a glowing, yellow whip.

"I will BREAK you, man-thing!" Says Diana.

"You think that piece of shit's gonna stop me?!" Shouts Ultraman.

The lasso wraps around Ultraman. He tries to move, only for it to constrict as it forces him to an abrupt stop.

The weapon ushers the Lord of Steel to his knees, as he adopts a hypnotized, almost stoic glance.

"It's pointless." Says Ultraman. "All of it is..."

"This lasso, forged by Hades himself, will drown you of all emotion!" Shouts Diana. "You'll be a vegetable!"

A brief flicker of emotion stirs from Ultra's face as his mind struggles to resists the whip's influence.

"Ugh...Owlman...Use your...things!" Shouts Ultraman as he struggles to move.

Owlman flings a sharpened Owl-Rang at the device, only for it to bounce harmlessly off onto the ground.

"Artifacts of the Gods are indestructible!" Shouts Diana, as she swings her lasso (complete with captive) at Owlman. "As am I!"

The caped villain dodges the swing, as Ultraman's impact with the ground causes a tree nearby to fall.

"You people think you can control me?!" Shouts Diana. "I will take my place among the outside world of my own accord! And then...I'll demolish it!"

Years of repressed anger had unleashed itself upon the invaders. Her mother's protectiveness, the Amazons' simple submission, the lack of purpose in such an isolated existence. It all came out in a massive torrent.

Diana's strategy reduced itself to 'repeatedly bash at invader until dead.' Clearly, she wasn't "there" at the moment.

Ultraman meanwhile aimed his gaze at Diana, as a Heat-Vision beam released itself from his eyes.

While it didn't do damage, it did blind Diana briefly. But that was all they needed.

The distraction causes Diana to drop Ultraman (By extension, her lasso as well) onto the ground, causing a tremor.

As soon as Ultraman frees himself, he clutches his head in exaustion.

"Damn." Says Ultraman. "That thing reduced my motivation. It messes with your head. Imposes some kinda guilt-trip dealy on ya. Stay away from it."

"You don't say?" Says Owlman sarcastically. "Distract her. I have a plan."

"Got ya." Says Ultraman. "Payback, bitch!"

Ultraman goes all-out, flying towards Diana as the two enter into an aerial fist-fight.

Owlman meanwhile digs through his Utility Belt for a certain gadget. One thing nothing can withstand? Noise!

Ultraman lands blow after blow as Diana dodges and counters.

"If you want life, you gotta grab it by the balls and squeeze till blood comes out!" Shouts Ultraman. "You can't just wish for it to change, ya self-entitled shit!"

Owlman at last finds what he's looking for. An odd remote-like gadget. Aiming the remote at Diana, he shouts "Kent! Cover your ears!"

As he does so, Owlman presses the button.

Diana stops her latest attack charge, and begins clutching her head in agony.

"AAAAHHHHH!"

Diana's onsluaght was brought to an abrupt hold, as her loss of physical control sends her crashing to the ground. Blood appeared to be coming from her ears.

After a half-minute, Owlman releases the button.

Clawing her way back to something resembling a fighting stance, Diana's expression softens.

"She seems like herself again." Says Owlman. "For now."

"The hell you use on 'er?" Asks Ultraman.

"Supersonic Accelerator." Says Owlman. "White noise, to keep it simple."

"Gonna try talkin' now, sweet-cheeks? Or we gonna do this again?" Asks Ultraman to Diana. His tone is somewhat more relaxed.

"Sorry. That happens now and again." Says Diana as she struggles to her feet. "And if you don't want to be castrated, keep your hands to yourself."

Ultraman smirks at the comment, but ignores it.

"So, what was that shit all about?" He asks.

"You try staying on an island, barred from any other life on the planet for thirty years then come tell me it doesn't bother you." Sarcastically remarks Diana.

"Point taken." Says Ultraman.

"Enough banter." Says Owlman, who quickly puts away the device he had used on Diana prior. "What is your answer?"

"Heh." Smirks the woman. "Blowing this place up only gives me prerogative to explore the world anyway, whether I join you or not. Didn't think your plan through, did ya?"

"Quite the opposite." Says Owlman. "You carry an obvious attachment to this place, otherwise you'd have left long ago. Destroying it would be the equivalent of killing someone you love. We'd rather have you as a benefactor than a business rival."

"You don't have to like something to cherish it." Ultraman says. "Friends close, enemies closer and all that jazz."

Diana remains silent for a moment while Ultraman looks at Owlman.

"Her motivations are all over the fucking place." Says Ultraman. "This is why I don't deal in diplomacy."

"A lunatic on our side is someone on our side. Regardless of method." Replies Owlman. "You can stop noting her obvious deficiencies."

"I'm right here, idiots." Replies Diana.

"I'm in."

"Good." Says Owlman.

"On one condition." Says Diana.

"A caveat. Naturally." Says Owlman. "Your terms?"

"Did you mean what you said about demolishing this place?" She asks.

"Yep." Replies Ultraman. "I guess you want us to off the bomb, huh?"

"Good." Says Diana. "The moment we leave, do it."

"Of course." Says Owlman. "Time is of the essence."

Ultraman does a double-take, but the other two have already began walking to the embarkment point.

_"This chick's fucked up."_ Ultraman thinks to himself. _"I'm not exactly Father Napoleon, but damn..."_

To Ultraman, there were pussy heroes, badass villains, and batshit crazy lunatics who couldn't exactly be labelled. This chick definitely fit in the third category. And that criticism coming from the guy that not a half-hour ago murdered Amazons for kicks was certainly something, which he acknowledged. Seemed more trouble than she was worth. But still, having some extra muscle didn't sound too bad. It was weird though...When they first encountered Diana, her bloodlust was agreeable to Ultra. Seemed like a cool woman. Why was he suddenly uninterested?

The walk to the submarine was mostly silent. Owlman scanned the area ahead with a focused gaze as Ultraman tried to keep his distance from Diana, whose eyes were fiery with an excitement she hadn't felt in many, many years.

After a time, they made it to the point where Owlman and Ultraman had entered the island. To find a battalion of Amazon soldiers waiting for them. What made this encounter different was the woman at the spearhead of the group. Like Diana, she was dressed in the pure basics. Hell, resembled her even. Had an air of authority around her. The three stop as Diana clenches her left hand into a fist.

"What are YOU doing here?!" Asks Diana.

"When I caught wind of the deaths of the Four Generals, I knew something was up when you sent Artemis away." Says the woman. "I know my foolish daughter. You're seriously thinking of eloping with these...men?"

"I'm not eloping." Says Diana. "I'm using them. I'll use them to take me to the outside world."

"And what, dear Hera, will you do when you arrive?" Asks the woman.

Diana remains silent as Owl and Ultra watch on. They could intervene, but why ruin the chance to gain knowledge of their potential ally?

"As for you men..." Says the woman. "I commend you're battle prowess. None have defeated the Four Generals before the two of you. But power is meaningless without purpose."

"And purpose is useless without power." Counters Owlman. "That's why we're here. Your daughter's...talents...are exactly what we need back home."

"So, she's just a pawn to you?" Asks the woman.

"We are here for entirely selfish reasons." Says Ultraman. "Playin' the guilt trip card ain't getting' ya nowhere."

"Good." Says the woman as she cracks her knuckles. "Then I can play this straight."

"You always do this." Says Diana. "You assume I'm a baby deer that needs constant protection, even after i've turned foreign armies into guacamole dishes. Even after I talked down Circe into killing herself. After the Arena becomes my damn playground. Ever occur to you that I can think for myself? Make my own decisions? No. I'll always be a fucking baby, huh?"

"Your honor, not your age, is my concern." Says the woman, apparently her mother. "You always were a moral question mark. I listen to how you belittle your opponents, care not for life and your fellow sisters. I cannot by all rights let you devastate that world. Release a feral dog like you? No. Your'e staying here until I can instill some right and wrong into you."

"You have no choice." Says Owlman. "We could blow your whole island sky-high in an instant if we wanted to."

"Oh, I dismantled you're bomb ages ago." Says the woman. "It's a harmless decoration now."

"Clever." Replies Owlman, as he and Ultraman enter fighting stances. "But futile."

"No more." Says Diana, her breathing increasing rapidly, her fury rising. "At this moment, I'm shedding my Amazon name. Diana is dead. Queen Hippolyta, Superwoman is going to smear you across your precious island! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Yep, thought Ultraman. 'Lunatic' was an accurate description of Diana- now Superwoman.

"May Hera have mercy on your soul, Diana." Says Hippolyta as she points at the trio, signalling her Amazons to attack. "I want the men alive! Diana is mine! Charge!"

The miniature army rushes at the trio. Superwoman ignores them all and heads straight for Hippolyta. Owlman and Ultraman look at each other.

"I'm in no mood for a gang-bang. Ultraman? Blow some sense into them, if you would."

"I got somethin' even better." Says the Kryptonian as he flies high into the air. Spreading his arms wide, he slams his hands together as hard as he could. The force creates a shock-wave that knocks almost all twenty of the women into the sea next to the combat zone. The three that manage to withstand the blast end up with knock-out darts embedded in their arms courtesy of Owlman.

"Mop up any stragglers. I'm going to re-wire the bomb." Says Owlman.

With that, Owlman descends deeper into the brush.

Ultraman sighs, shaking his head.

"When did this job devolve into a smash-and-grab? Irony..."

While this happened, Diana and Hippolyta enter into a martial artist fist exchange.

Both trained in the Amazonian styles of fighting, they were evenly matched in terms of skill. Amazonian styles were derived from fighting maneuvers and tactics gained from the Amazons' knowledge of the outside world and it's invader's skills and mannerisms.

As such, an astute fighter would see elements of Krav Maga, Kung-Fu, Tae-Kwon-Do, and just about every fighting style known by man instilled into naturally-honed tactics developed to cope with the harsh jungles of Themiscyra and it's animal denizens.

The stalemate goes on for about a minute until Diana attempts to flip over Hippolyta to get behind her. Mid-flip, Hippolyta issues a quick punch to Diana's gut, which causes her to fall to the ground, coughing up blood.

"Being an Amazon requires honor, kindness, and discipline. You have none of these." Says Hippolyta. "You revel in your strength. You use it to demean and dominate others. You value nothing. And that is why I am the superior warrior."

"You *cough* think I wanted to be an Amazon!" Replies Diana, as she attempts a punch, which is abruptly blocked. "You force your system on me without asking what I want! You assume everybody thinks like you! We have power! We should use it!"

"Power is a responsibility, not a privilege." Replies Hippolyta.

* * *

Owlman eventually locates the bomb. A short ways from the battle site was the Amazons' armory. No wonder they were finicky when they arrived. They had landed right next to the Amazons' weapons cache. If only Owlman's contact had mapped the island for him. Oh, well.

No matter.

Getting in wasn't particularly difficult. There weren't any guards outside; perhaps to not broadcast the Armory as important.

The armory wasn't much to speak of. An isolated building full of weapons taken from invaders and the like. Nothing there was particularly impressive. This WAS Earth. The most impressive mobile weapon (Outside of a nuke, which nobody wants to flaunt around) was a tank, which, if the Armory was any indicator, never made it to shore to be seized.

The room itself followed a three-floor plan. The first floor was filled with Amazonian weapons. Your stock swords and spears. The second floor had guns and rifles, no doubt stolen from the corpses of Soviet or French invaders.

The third floor was something to behold. A crystal ball, an odd decorative mirror, a glowing Spear of some type, and the husk that was once Owlman's bomb being carried by two Amazons.

Luckily, the Armory was just as decorative as the path to the city, as Owlman had found a convenient deity statue from which to perch. The top of the statue revealed to him the patrol positions for all three floors. (There weren't any walls to speak of. It was akin to a hospital parking lot section)

Not too many guards. Six in all, two per floor. The bomb was too heavy to retrieve, so he'd have to arm it there. That meant clearing the armory. Owlman had the advantage. It was cramped, dark, and the guards were already on edge due to the state of emergency.

Owlman begins with the first floor. The guards operated in groups of two. One headed for each side of the corridor. Owlman lands behind a single group, smacking their heads together with force. The resounding CRACK from the impacting helmet armor alerts the other groups that something was amiss. With speed, Owlman throws two Owl-rangs at the other group of two, which explode upon impact.

A getaway with the Owl-Zip would take too long to set up, as he could hear resounding footsteps coming down the stairs. Owlman jumps off of the open wall, clinging to the edge balcony. No time wasted, either...As the last two Amazons there converge on the bodies of the defeated.

"We have an invader." Says one.

"Clearly." Sarcastically says another.

"What should we do?" Asks the second.

"Stick together." Says one. "Even if one of us is taken out, the other has a chance."

"Shouldn't we find Hippolyta?" Asks the other.

"No time."

They thought they were being clever. They were just fueling their paranoia.

Owlman climbs back up, and crouches near the bodies. As expected, they didn't bother checking the rest of the area.

"_Wish I could get creative, but there isn't time.._" Thinks the invader, his right hand longingly tugging on the section of his utility belt containing Snap-Flashes. (A distance-detonated mini-flash) They were fun to watch pop, but were also hell in a hand-basket to prepare, especially against the ones who already sort of know you're there. With a resigning whisper, Owlman takes out a Claw-gun. "_If I can't get creative, then let's get direct._"

Owlman aims the gun at one of the walking Amazons, and fires. The claw jerks her backwards, as she lands a step away from Owlman.

"Care to dance?" He asks evilly.

The victim wastes no time in flipping forward, her weapon at the ready.

"A spear, how simple." Replies Owlman, as the Amazon tries to stab him with the weapon.

Owlman lifts his left arm as the weapon passes through the air. Quickly, he ensnares the weapon under his armpit, using his left hand to pull the weapon further, as the Amazon travels with it. Just before she bumps directly into Owlman, a right hook greets her, sending her (As well as the weapon) unconscious unto the floor.

By now the other is already rushing towards the villain, a sword brandished. Owlman replies with a punch to the stomach, using his other hand to disarm her of her sword. A stab to the gut after, and the enemy is now a corpse on the ground.

Owlman walks the now unpopulated halls. The Amazons obviously weren't the most technological race. Judging by how little there actually was here pushed the conclusion that they were trying to research how to harness this technology. It seemed clearly alien to them. It was almost a shame they had to be destroyed. The Amazons, with time, could've been formidable enemies. A distraction. Oh, well. Business before pleasure.

Eventually, Owlman came upon the silent bomb. It was just a simple spherical design. However, the chemicals Owlman added to it gave it about half the power of a nuke. It wasn't about the power though, it was about the force it would produce onto the island's structure. It would unbalance the island, sinking it into the sea with force that would produce a vent of water pressure. The pressure should just about everyone still on it when the bomb detonates. Of course, Hippolyta, being a superhuman, might be a concern later. Owlman made a mental note to add her file to the Owl-Comp later on.

The wires were practically kaput. Hippolyta's handiwork made re-connecting them impossible. So much for re-arming it. Instead, he'd have to release the force somehow. Perhaps the force from a few snap-flashes would undo the entire thing? It was his only choice, as he didn't bring any mesh with him.

There. The bomb was ready. Now to get out of this jungle.

* * *

Diana and Hippolyta were getting more and more aggressive by the minute.

Ultraman could only watch as trees fell down and the ground shook.

He's tried to help, but Diana just keeps knocking him back.

Hippolyta meanwhile was giving her all, blinded by the fury she felt towards her daughter. It would be piss-easy to double-team her.

Wherever this fight was headed, it was getting there.

A part of Ultraman's ear vibrates, as he puts his finger to a communicating device perched there.

"U, it's O." Says Owlman's voice over the device. "The bomb is in place. Are the two of you ready?"

"The whores are still swinging'." Replies Ultraman. "I'm tryin' to help, but Diana's bein' a bitch about it. 'Only I can defeat her' and such shit."

"We don't have time for this." Says Owlman. "I intend on being out of here in ten minutes. If the fight isn't resolved in five, extract her. By force, if needed."

"Gotcha." Says Ultraman, as Owlman links out.

Another stalemate takes place for a while, until Hippolyta finally falters as a punch to the jaw by Diana stuns her long enough for a barrage. Superwoman crashes her mother to the ground with impressive force, as she begins wailing on her.

"I. Control. My. Own. LIFE!" Shouts Diana after each punch. Blood and the like begins spilling onto the sandy beach.

The only sound that consumes the otherwise serene shore is the fanatical laughing of Superwoman, which only intensifies per punch she throws.

With an irritated sigh from Ultraman, he flies over to Diana, grabbing her fist as she preps yet another punch.

"We gotta go now." He says matter-of-factly. "I think ya made your point."

The two look upon the now swollen face of Hippolyta, who still struggles to get up. Black eyes, cuts, bruises, and a tattered royal suit are all that's left of Diana's mother. Ultraman's seen this many times over. A defeated hero. The first few times, it was empowering. Now he almost felt sorry. Almost.

"Not yet I haven't." Says Superwoman.

Releasing her fist from Ultra's grasp, she delivers a striking blow to her mother's chest.

The blow seems to have induced Cardiac arrest, as Hippolyta's body spasms for a bit before becoming eerily still, as breathing leaves it.

"Ok. We done now? Owlman's readyin' our get-away. C'mon."

Superwoman calmly stands upright, before following Ultraman.

"The hell was that back there?" He asks. "You hate her that much? Or you just batshit insane?"

"Yes and no." Replies Diana, or rather, Superwoman. "Yeah, I couldn't stand her. But the Amazon way demands honorable death. For us, honorable means complete and absolute. Generally, the more punishment we receive, the more honorable it's looked on. I hate our traditions, but I couldn't help but deliver. And yes, I know that's screwed up."

"Hate to see how y'all'd react to Earth blowin' up..." Says Ultraman. "But seriously, I've seen worse. Krypton wasn't no group therapy session, either. Conquer a people, you massacre every rebel, dissident or even failure soldiers and put their entrails on display as warnin'. That's how I learned not to hold back. Least you guys honor your dead."

Ultraman wasn't quite ready to say he was used to her yet, but this was her first taste of freedom in a while. Maybe she'd mellow down with time? Besides, like Owlman said before, they didn't have to like each other. It was only sheer coincidence that he and Owlman respected one another.

A little while later, the three had boarded the getaway submarine.

Superwoman just stared at the view-screen, transfixed in awe as Paradise Island sank into the underwater depths.

Owlman meanwhile, seemed to be taking notes on a notepad of some type.

Ultraman just sat, reclining on a chair.

"Triton's gonna be pissed, ain't he?" Asks Ultraman.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Replies Owlman. "Anyway, for now, I propose a brief respite before we go recruiting again. I have to debunk some odd rumor of a government counter-android. What about the two of you?"

"I'm taking a tour of Man's World, obviously." Says Superwoman. Maybe carve a territory of my own. Get my toes warm."

"A tip then, avoid Bludhaven at the moment." Replies Owlman.

"Why?" Asks Superwoman.

"A surge of insurgent activity there." Says Owlman. "There are super-humans there that have become a psuedo-police force. I'd wait until you've settled into a groove here before taking on that place."

"Then I'll start there. I won't be bored, certainly." Replies Superwoman.

"Your'e funeral." Says Owlman. "You, Ultraman?"

"Think I'll just chill for a week in my civies." Says Ultraman. "Nothin' else to do."

"Speaking of which, Superwoman needs a civilian identity, too. Remind me when we disembark." Says Owlman.

So far, things were going swimmingly, despite how botched the job ended up becoming. Still, Ultraman couldn't help but wonder where this organization Owlman's planning will go. And what do they all have to gain, Owlman in particular? Owlman meant what he said about Money being useless, but what overlying plan does he have? The thought consumed Ultraman for the remainder of the ride...


	3. Barry Allen: The Kinda-Sorta Biography

"For CCAB, I'm Reporter Clark Kent. Thanks for tuning into the goings-on...of our Daily Planet! Good night."

He hated doing that reporter voice. It felt unnatural, like he was trying badly to imitate a celebrity.

Oh, well. It paid Clark Kent's bills, didn't it?

The Daily Planet.

A TV Station that served as the highest-grade news station in the world, based right here in Metropolis.

Politics, Celebrities, and Entertainment. The Planet covered it all. Shame much of what this world had to offer only happened behind the scenes.

This didn't disparage Kent any less. After all, it served as a minor distraction. Much like a video game.

"Hey, Clark!" Shouts a voice.

Kent adjusts his glasses, turning to face Jimmy Olsen. Jimmy was an up-and-coming news assistant, hoping to rise to reporter-dom someday. Unfortunately, he lacked the head needed for this business. Still, he had the gusto not too many people here had. Maybe he'd make it? Jimmy was also very open-minded...And very pliable. Clark often used him as a scapegoat for Ultraman's more secretive dealings. After all, Jimmy was going through college and needed the extra dough. Still, hired help was just hired help. It wasn't like he knew Clark's secret or anything. He thought about telling him, but considering his fear of Ultraman, it'd probably hurt what little relations he and Jimmy already have. He'll keep shut about it. Why fix what wasn't broken?

"Heya, Jimmy." Says Clark, keeping that reporter voice going. He had a separate accent for his secret identity. His native accent wasn't subtle. Connection would be easy to make.

"Talked to the boss today. I think he's gonna finally promote me to Senior Assistant." Says Jimmy.

"Quite a leap." Says Clark happily. "Congrats."

"It wouldn't have been possible without you're recommendation, Clark." Replies Olsen.

"Nah, I think Perry's had his eye on you for a while, anyway." Says Clark with a smile. "Congratulate yourself a bit."

"Well, I gotta report to Mister Perry, but I'll catch ya on the flip side! Pizza on Monday?" Shouts Jimmy as he hurriedly walks away. "Anyway...If this goes well, you'll start callin' me 'Mister Olsen!'"

"Good luck!" Shouts Clark, before muttering "...Not in a thousand years, kid."

The walk outside wasn't very eventful. The occasional hi/bye to acquaintances was monotonous at best. He was anxious to get to "Clark's" home, where he could rest for a while.

As the double doors to the station building opened, Clark Kent breathed in deeply the fresh air of the outside.

Clark Kent: Thirty, Kansas born and raised. Jonathan and Martha Clark found Kal-El as a baby after his escape pod crashed down into their crop fields. However, he was already approaching adolescence. Out of compassion and pity, they took him in. Unfortunately, life in the Kent house was not peachy-keen. While they weren't abusive, they were certainly...indifferent. They went out of their way to keep Clark out of the public eye. This meant that he had to pay his own way into college after completing his GED, his own rent from day one, and certainly couldn't make too many friends out of fear of exposure. They made it clear they did NOT like him, and continuously made an effort to distance themselves from him as much as possible.

Of course, the teenager from the militaristic planet took this as a major insult. It didn't take much effort to sabotage their brakes one day when they went out of town using some well-placed heat-vision. The car careened into a trench, exploding on impact. This left Kent to inherit the house. Using the house as a base, Kent began his criminal career as Ultraman. (His interference turning Kansas into the world's second least safe city in the world!) From there, insert underdog rags-to-riches-with-superpowers story here.

It felt good to escape sometimes.

Despite that though: Deep down, he was and always would be Ultraman.

Just as he began walking to the nearest intersection to cross, something odd happened. A red blur rushed past him. Almost hit him too. A quick look around later revealed a missing briefcase. That blur took his suitcase. He had heard rumors of a red blur in Keystone that would consume valuables in his wake. Many thought it was just some natural phenomenon. No...That had to have been a Super. After all, his pockets were still full. The suitcase did look moderately fancy. Maybe people thought it was full of money? But what was it, no, _they_ doing in Metropolis? It didn't matter. The contents weren't important. It was his pride.

This was a job for the Ultraman.

Clark hurried into the nearest alleyway. With quickness, he pulled open his suit to reveal the symbol of the Ultraman: A shield-shaped triangle, with the letter "U" in red font in the center. Of course, the letter was stylized. A chrome-making, complete with tiny jagged edges at the end of each branch of the letter. Thought it'd be a nice touch. The rest of the suit had a simple blue coloring with a red cape. Just because the "U" was fancy didn't mean the whole costume had to be. He was a Super, not a painting!

He collected all of his clothes and hid them behind the nearest container. Even if some homeless person found it, all it had was a pocket protector and maybe a few twenty dollar bills. Nothing special.

Ultraman wasted no time in flying into the sky, passersby running in fear as he went.

The blur looked like it was headed in the direction of Suicide Slum. Suicide Slum was aptly named because it served as a popular spot for people down on their luck to off themselves. Of course, it had it's poor there too, but that was apparently never on the minds of the rumor-spreaders.

Suicide Slum was also a haven for thieves and the black market. Whoever took his suitcase probably came by there to trade off his stolen goods. That's where Ultraman would find him.

_"I'll try talkin' to Bibbo."_ Thinks Ultraman. _"Provided he ain't drunk off his ass again."_

Bibbo was a Black Market dealer centered in a tavern called the "One O'Spades." He had good business savvy, but was a raging alcoholic. Ultra performed the occasional side-job for Bibbo, which caused the two to develop a business relationship. One reason Ultra liked Bibbo? He didn't give a shit about client confidentiality. Luckily, when Ultra got there, Bibbo was sober. He'd best take the time to talk now.

The bar wasn't much to speak of. Basic wooden walls. The occasional Beer logo light-sign, but otherwise rather barren. Like something you'd see in the high North, or a ski lodge. Good thing, too. Being decorative in Metropolis was like painting a bulls-eye on your house and saying 'This is important. Attack this.' Certainly hasn't stopped Ultraman in the past.

"Bibbo." Says Ultraman.

Bibbo looked up from his desk, giving a yellow-toothed grin upon seeing the Villain of Steel.

"Ultraman! Just in time! I was gettin' ready to have a pint. Care for a game?" He asks.

"Another time, maybe." Says Ultraman. "I need info on somebody who might have been selling to ya."

If this was anyone else, Bibbo would've asked for money up-front. He must've liked Ultraman, though. He usually put it on a tab, which Ultraman was very good about settling. A valued customer, if you will.

"Got anything to go by?"Asks Bibbo.

"A Super, I reckon." Says Ultraman. "Might have been wearin' red?"

"I don't get many Supers 'round these parts." Says Bibbo. "Wait. There was a kid that came in here a half-hour ago. I swear the kid was lightning fast."

"What'd he pawn or buy?" Asks Ultraman.

"Basic knick-knacks. Didn't buy anything." Said Bibbo. "Kid was mighty stupid, though. I managed to give him only half-price and he weren't the wiser."

"He have anything from the Daily Planet?" Asks Ultraman.

"Why? You into that place?" Asks Bibbo.

"Nah, I got a guy in there. All you need to know." Replies Ultra, furrowing his brow.

"Point taken." Says Bibbo. Ultraman's reluctance to elaborate irritated him, but the villain didn't care.

"Got a name?" Asks Ultra.

"Nope." Says Bibbo. "Kid left as fast as he came in. He was wearing some kinda cloak, so I can't give ya a physical description."

"You know which way he went?" Asks Ultra.

"No idea; kid practically disappeared. Saw somethin' streak westward though, if that does anything." Replies Bibbo.

As Ultraman suspected. Keystone was west of Metropolis. Looks like he found a connection.

"Thanks. That's all I needed to know." Asks Ultra. "By the way, how'd the shipment go?"

"Went swimmingly." Says Bibbo. "Raynes was ecstatic. Owes me a favor now. Thanks again. Oh, I forgot yer share."

"No prob." Replies Ultraman. "And don't worry about it. Use it for my tab."

"Smart thinkin'." Chuckles Bibbo. "Good luck, Ultraman. And I shouldn't have to say...You need somethin'..."

"...I'll come to you."

* * *

Not much of a haul. That's what he gets for assuming every guy with a case has money.

Wasn't that stupid a thought though, considering how rampant crime was in North Colonia.

Bah, maybe he was just trying to justify a stupid move? Oh, well.

What's done is done.

Still, the money he got was enough for the week.

Weren't many jobs for a former heroin addict. Certainly didn't look good on a resume. Nor did being barely a high school grad, either. Hell, even burger flippers snubbed him as a nobody. Of course, stealing food from those places didn't help, but those were minor details.

Barry Allen (Current Alias): twenty-five: Job-less, disowned, former addict, and developmental kleptomaniac. Yep, he was a real prize-winner.

Allen stared at the one trinket that stood out in his hellhole apartment: A picture of his mother and father. They certainly didn't get along very well, but once Barry was eighteen, he was kicked out as an incentive to do better. The depression of it all sank in as he resorted to drugs to cope. Luckily, he had managed to mostly recover with therapy. (amassing quite a tab in the process) Of course there was the occasional relapse. To combat them, he had developed a need to steal as a defense mechanism. It kept him off of drugs, but made him more compulsive. Eventually, he'd clean himself up. Get a job. Move on from this...squalor. But, he couldn't face them yet. Not now.

The one thing that thrilled him now were his powers.

Super-speed. Happened to him during one of his kleptomaniac "heists." He received a tip from one of his buyers (The people he sold his trinkets to) of a weird metal that would sell pretty high. Supposedly, it was developed by a scientist named Darryl Frye. According to the buyer, it was going to be implemented into some sort of military project, transported publicly VIA common delivery service to avoid it standing out. The first flag that something was up was the fact that some sleazy street seller who mostly sold cheap drugs and/or illegally obtained trinkets/music/movies/what-have-you had top-secret military information. But like an idiot, Barry, alongside a few other eager beavers, investigated.

It was a sell-out trap, to put it kindly. No sooner had the thieves stuck up the drivers of the car and pried open the container with the loot did an army unit storm in. Most tried to make a run for it, only to be caught or sniped. Barry tried another approach. He decided to try to hold the item hostage in exchange for his freedom. This worked as well as you'd have expected it to, with the army opening fire. Somehow though, the metal had fallen out of the container and grafted itself to him; almost as though it were alive. The metal had sharpened his reflexes, and made him faster. The bullets had done nothing to him. (He later found out that it was because he was continuously moving, trying to dodge) Using his speed, he managed to bail out of there. Afterwards, it had morphed into a ring that he could use to become...whatever he was that time. Since then, he's been able to call upon the speed without transforming.

He used the powers to support his klepto habits. Since then, he's gotten bolder. He never found out what had happened to the guy that sold his group out. (An off-hand rumor suggested he got whacked by one of the local Supers, but he took all rumors with a grain of salt since that day.) Still, he's stuck to petty theft since then. Managed to forge an alias of...questionable quality so far.

"Things'll change, Barry." He says to himself. "They always do."

WHAM!

The noise shook Barry out of his depressive stupor. He looked outside through the one window in his house.

It was a Super wreaking havoc outside.

He didn't waste time gawking. The chaos was indiscriminate. If he didn't hurry, he'd probably be demolished along with this crapshack!

He decided not to use his super-speed. Didn't want to attract attention to himself.

Running outside, he saw the Super throw a tree over his house. (Didn't land on it, thank goodness!)

The Super was someone familiar to pretty much everybody in the Tri-County: Ultraman.

This didn't seem to be his style, but Barry would be damned if he stood around critiquing super-villains.

Ultra wasn't doing much aside from throwing random things around, with the occasional eye blast.

Ultraman must've seen him gawking however, as Barry dodged a laser-blast clearly meant for him using his super-speed. In the process, doing the exact opposite of "not drawing attention to himself."

"Finally found ya, ya crook!" Shouted Ultraman as he flew towards Barry at high speed.

"HOLY SHIT!" Shouted Barry as he began running like his life depended on it, because it did! The ring reacted as it began melting, melding itself and expanding onto his skin. Without noticing, a red suit had found it's way onto Barry's body. The ring must've been some kind of magic doohickey. Not that Barry was complaining. Hell, he was already on the expressway!

Unfortunately, Ultraman wasn't showing any effort to keep up with him.

"I'll teach you to steal from my boys!" Shouts Ultraman.

"The fuck, man?! There was nothin' but useless knick-knacks in there!" Shouts Barry back. "This isn't something worth frying me over!"

Another blast dodged as cars began piling up in an attempt to give the Supers lee-way.

"Not the point, kid!" Shouts Ultraman. "You don't mess with the big boys!"

Ultraman takes in a massive inhale, releasing from his mouth frost that begins covering the streets with intensity. As expected, all of Barry's high speed failed him as he tripped onto the ice.

Ultra didn't bother stopping as he flew towards Barry, his right first raised.

Barry meanwhile, was getting irritated.

"FINE! You wanna dance? C'mon, big guy!" Shouts Barry. He wasn't exactly a slouch in a fight, but he had no doubt in his mind that he wouldn't be making a dent on that alien skin. Still, had to try. Moving in short bursts, he began to vibrate with high speed. As the Kryptonian fist came flying at him, it slipped through a ghostly image of Barry. It wasn't actually an image. But, by vibrating his molecules at a high enough speed, he could become briefly intangible. Using his intangibility, he thrust his right hand into Ultraman's chest. It did some kind of damage, as Ultraman halted any further attack immediately, clutching his chest in pain. Maybe he could do this after all?

"How do you like them apples?!" Shouted Barry. Seeing Ultraman's glare after that made him wish he rescinded that statement.

Ultra rushed him directly this time. He dodged the punches with no effort, but couldn't find a way to retaliate.

_"A tornado might stun him, but it wouldn't be effective! He CAN fly!"_ Thought Barry to himself. _"Could try a high speed rush! Not like I have anything else!"_

Barry vibrates his arms as he rushed Ultraman in much the same way the latter did. Throwing punch after punch at Ultraman's stomach, he kept on and kept on for a good half-minute. They were nicking him, but weren't stopping him. An upward hook from the enemy stopped Barry instantly, as the force of the blow flung him right back onto the ice.

Barry struggled just to get into a semi-sitting position, but he couldn't. Any chance he might've had was gone. If he hadn't had the ring on his side, he'd be ground putty right now.

Of course, that was probably gonna be his fate anyway, given the pissed-off alien Super walking towards him menacingly.

What happened next though was weird. Ultraman began laughing.

"HAHAHAHAHA!" Laughs Ultraman. The little pain from Barry's blows seemed to have subsided as Ultra stops right in front of his fallen foe. Just standing there, laughing.

Barry was fffffucked.

"Wow kid, you've got some brass balls!" Says Ultraman as his laugh reduces itself to a chuckle. "Color me impressed."

Barry couldn't really respond to what was happening here. Was there some kind of gas leak? Or was he hallucinating from the pain of a two-ton punch? Dream or not, Barry didn't bother getting himself off of the icy ground. No sudden moves.

"Didn't expect ya to stand up to me, considerin' my rep." Says Ultraman, having finally calmed down from...whatever he was feeling. "You're somethin' else."

Ultraman extends a helping hand to Barry. He expected a psych-out, but things couldn't get much worse at this point. So, he took it.

It was genuine. As soon as Barry relaxed, Ultraman did too.

"I expected ya to puss out and bail." Said Ultraman. "But you stood yer ground. That's somethin' to me."

"What do you want?" Asks Barry.

"I was gonna smear ya across Keystone, originally." Says Ultraman. "But after what you did, I think i'm gonna use ya instead."

Barry's mouth swirled into a grimace. That had a number of connotations. Ultra caught on.

"Me and a friend are puttin' together a team o' Supers." Says Ultraman. "We could use somebody of you're...unique talents."

"Like a gang?" Barry asks. "Tried that before. Almost got filled full of lead."

"Not a gang." Replied Ultraman. "We're...well, we dunno what we're gonna be. But it'll be a more permanent partnership. You think about joinin' us, I'll consider you and me square."

"Gotta say, this sounds too good to be true...And usually, these things are." Replies Barry.

"Well, you can keep tryin' to strike out in that roach-infested shack ya call an apartment, scrapin' to get by..." Says Ultraman sarcasticaly.

"Saw that, did ya?" Asks Barry.

"C'mon kid. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance." Says Ultra, getting annoyed. "Besides, ya have the looks of a green rookie. Maybe with us, ya can make somethin' of yourself."

He had a point. Barry wasn't gonna get anywhere scraping.

"Ok. Tell your friend I'm in." Says Barry.

"Good man." Says Ultraman. "Our next meetin' is in Metropolis. Chezz Joey's. You've been there before...right?"

Barry chuckles a bit before nodding.

"Good. See ya there." Says Ultraman, as he begins flying upwards before stopping. "By the way, you need a name to go with that costume. 'Barry Allen' ain't exactly gonna make people piss themselves. See ya."

Barry wanted to ask how Ultra knew his name, but found asking the guy with X-Ray Vision who can probably see his wallet contents pointless.

As Ultraman flew away, all Barry could do was stare at the ring on his right finger. Maybe it wasn't the curse he assumed it was.

* * *

"Ooh, this food is delicious!"

All Ultraman could do was stare at Superwoman, who was eating her chicken breast like a hunted kill. He, and Owlman seemed disgusted at her lack of manners. Barry was indifferent. Besides, she was a nice piece of ass...though he'd never say that part out loud.

It had been two days since Ultraman and Barry's tangle in the Metropolis-Keystone Expressway Bridge. Barry had, unfortunately, not decided on a Super identity just yet. He wanted to meet these people first, just in case Ultraman had ended up fucking with him. Was he being too cautious? Yes. Yes, he was. And he didn't regret it for a minute.

He didn't expect villains like these to have chivalry. Still, it was quite a thrill hanging with some of the big boys.

Owlman, the crime-lord of Gotham.

Metropolis' scourge-slash-occasional-protector Ultraman.

And the up-and-coming Superwoman, the misandrist overseer of Bludhaven. (Who was currently vying with The Crow for territory)

Owlman finally breaks the awkward silence.

"So far, the recruitment has gone beyond my calculated expectations." Says Owlman. "Your finding of Mister Allen was quite an achievement, Ultraman. With his super-speed, we can communicate much easier with our contacts. And, with some training, you could become quite the escape artist, Mister Allen."

"An escape artist, huh?" Asks Barry.

"There's more to victory than just beating something until it's dead." Says Owlman.

"He looks like a wimp." Says Superwoman, who had finally finished eating, and was now staring Barry down, scaling him. He felt slightly intimidated.

"That wimp managed to make me bleed for the first time in a while." Says Ultraman.

"You a masochist, Kryptonian?" Asks Superwoman, chuckling.

Ultraman ignores the comment, instead turning to face Barry.

"You ever find a name, kid?' Asks Ultraman, tearing a raw steak in half.

"Nothing yet." Says Barry. "I thought of something like 'The Flash' or 'Zoom.'"

"'The Flash?'" Asks Superwoman. "Can't say it rolls off the tongue."

"I agree." Says Owlman. A super identity needs...authority. Your name is ultimately up to you, however."

"Wait...I got it...**Slipstream**." Says Barry, spreading his arms in imaginary highlighting.

Superwoman nods in agreement.

"THAT is a Super's name." She says.

"Nice." Says Ultraman.

"Now that that little gem's out of the way..." Says Owlman. "We have a job."

The other three all listen intently as Owlman begins speaking.

"Remember I mentioned to Superwoman about a Superhuman police force? They're growing bolder. Five of my underlings were attacked yesterday by this group. This isn't something I intend to take lying down."

"You want us to clean up you're mess?" Asks Superwoman.

"This isn't just my mess now, is it?" Replies Owlman smugly. "If they are attacking my men, imagine when they'll attack yours. Ultraman and Slipstream may not have any stake in this yet, but eventually they may. This affects all of us, short or long term. Stamping out rebellion."

"I find it ironic you say you ain't the 'conquer the world' type, but talkin' about rebellion." Says Ultraman.

"You never know what the future can bring." Says Owlman with an optimistic tone. "Besides, this gives Slipstream a chance to get his toes warm. We need to see how he performs in the field. A chance fluke with Ultraman notwithstanding."

"I'm in." Slipstream says.

"I'm in too." Says Ultraman. "Nobody messes with my colleagues. Let alone, my friends."

"'Friends?'" Asks Superwoman sarcastically. "Should we all hold hands and sing Yankee Doodle?"

"Friends come in many flavors." Replies Owlman. "Cease you're yammering. Now...Are you in?"

His tone showed clear annoyance.

"Sigh...I suppose." Says Superwoman in resigning.

"Very good." Says Owlman. "Now then...Who's covering the bill? Not it."

"Considering she's been runnin' her mouth since we got here, SuperSnarky here can pay for it." Says Ultraman, looking at Superwoman jokingly. "Certainly ate more than the rest of us."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Asks Superwoman angrily.

Ultraman and Owlman just chuckle at Super's inability to grasp the joke, while Slipstream sips the complementary wine.

For the first time in a long while, Barry Allen actually couldn't wait to wake up in the morning.


	4. Heroes Are Zeroes

Concentration.

Concentration was key.

Oliver Queen, AKA "Shadow Archer," sat perched amidst the chaos that unraveled itself below him.

They were supposedly The Crow's top field-commanders, but work had been dry as of late. Nothing fancy, but hey, it paid the bills. It was supposed to be a simple drug run. Till these..."Justice Something-or-other" bozos came in and wrecked the van.

Vulture was already down, while Groover and Samurai were being pinned back by a massive zombie-looking muscle-head.

Oliver fired an arrow at the thinner, scrawny-looking member that was shooting makeshift missiles out of his cane. The arrow was laced with a high cyanide dosage. Instantly fatal. They needed some kind of win right now.

Unfortunately, the group's resident flyer caught it before it could hit.

The last thing Oliver saw was a constructed pink fist headed his way...

* * *

"Fuckin' brutal, man."

Slipstream and Superwoman stood over a group of unconscious bodies.

"These guys never stood a chance." Superwoman says. "But their just the help. It's expected."

"Speakin' of help, where are Ultra and Owl?" Asks Slipstream.

"On their way." Replies Superwoman, stretching her arm. "Attending to some interrogation. Owlman said his little bitch was gonna meet us here?"

"His sidekick?" Asks Slipstream.

"No. His ex-sidekick." She replies.

"You mean former ward." Says a stern voice. "And I thought I told you to leave Bludhaven, whore."

The two turn to see a man dressed in a domino mask and yellow-black jumpsuit; a bird-patten somewhat integrated into an otherwise static ensemble. He had an intimidating air to him, not unlike Owlman. Of course, him being younger toned that factor down some. The man jumps down next to the two Supers.

"Hello to you too, Crow." Says Superwoman, making a sarcastic two-finger salute. "Owlman sent us here, actually."

"I don't care about the wimp over there, but _you_ need to be gone yesterday." The Crow says, thinning his eyes in Superwoman's direction. He brandishes a mini-staff of sorts (that auto-retracts in the process) and points it at the Amazon.

"Do I really look that weak?" Slipstream whispers to himself as the other two continue their stare-down.

"Owlman's gonna be pissed if you don't work with us. You know that...right?" Replies the villainess, a gleefully base smile on her face. "Not that I mind beating your face in, but this isn't the time. Besides, if me and you are fighting, who knows what other jobs these vigilanties'll hamper during?"

Crow was silent for a moment. Being a former assistant to Owlman, the two had a friendship of sorts. They worked together, told each other close personal secrets, protected one another. Like a family. A family that made the lives of others miserable, but still a family. Hell, he'd have been long dead if Owlman hadn't plucked him off the streets. He owed everything to Bruce. For better or worse.

Besides, the whore was right. In-fighting just gives these vigilantes more fodder. They all had talents needed to take this possee down. They needed each other.

"Sigh..." Crow sighs, re-folding his staff into a pocket-able object. "Fine. But you are an asset to me only, not a friend. The very moment we finish all of this, you leave or you die."

"Real scared, I am." Superwoman says, stifling a laugh. "Keep your threats where they're coming from: your ass."

"A-Anyway, how long has this been going on?" Asks Slipstream, eager to put the stewing tension on hold.

"After Owlman's help was attacked, they've started targeting my men." Says The Crow. "They aren't discreet about it, either. They clearly WANT to be noticed. I've seen them targeting small hoods, but they chose now of all times to grow a pair."

The Crow reaches into his utility belt, taking out two small plastic bags.

"I scoured the scene before you got here." He says. "One of these is a dead tissue sample, the other is some kind of pink-violet substance. Do either of you recognize either of these?"

"I'm not the science-y type." Says Slipstream. "Don't look at me."

Superwoman looks at the bag containing the substance.

"Looks familiar." Says Superwoman. "First day I came to Bludhaven, this weird flying woman was spraying pink light at...somebody. She was pre-occupied, so she didn't concern me. Couldn't tell you who it was, though. If you're so big and powerful, how come you don't keep tabs on all the local Supers?"

"I do." Says The Crow. "There is the occasional straggler. No system is flawless. Eventually find them, though."

"And we will." Says a voice.

From one of the rooftops comes Owlman, with Ultraman flying right next to him.

"Took you boys long enough." Says Superwoman. "Any luck on you're gossip hunt?"

"Turns out one o' the boys we roughed up was their informant." Says Ultraman. "Sure enough, they're stationed right here in Bludhaven, warehouse on Twelveth Drive."

"Good." Says The Crow. "I intend on making an example of them. Or killing them. Dunno how I feel yet."

"Not alone, you aren't." Replies Owlman sternly. "This group has attacked my men as well. If they're able to attack more than a few Super posses in less than a week, they aren't your everyday hood. Besides, we need to establish our own rep."

"Piggybacking off of me, eh?" Asks The Crow rather warmly.

"You know it." Says Owlman, smiling back.

"Very well." Says The Crow. "I'll send a scout there."

The Crow takes a cellular phone out of his utility belt.

After a few rings, a weary "yes" answers.

"Trent, I need you to scout the warehouse on Twelfth for me." Asks The Crow. "No need to do anything, just observe. I know it's your day off, but..."

"No problem, Crow. I'm on it." Replies the voice, as The Crow puts the phone away.

"Awful warm for a crime boss, aren't ya?" Asks Ultraman.

"People are more willing to stick with a kind boss than a murderous one." Says The Crow. "Motivates them to think, too. Helps root out the schemers and inspire the zealous. Besides, being nice doesn't mean I tolerate weakness. But, back to business..."

The Crow tosses the sample-bags towards Owlman.

Owlman catches them, viewing them with the eyes only a detective would have.

"Dead flesh...Fits the description of the leader perfectly. Solomon Grundy: A former government captive brought back to life in a top-secret German experiment. However, it went haywire and put his body into a permanent state of un-life. He escaped using his new-found strength. Didn't think he'd end up playing hero..."

"How do you know all that?" Asks Slipstream.

"If you have to ask that, then you don't know the Owlman." Replies The Crow.

"I'll tell the story another time." Says Owlman. "Lets just say Bruce Wayne was involved. As for the substance, it's nothing Earth is capable of producing. It has no geometric makeup. My guess? Some sort of solidified energy."

"So, should we head over to Twelveth?" Asks Ultraman. "We'll logic this shit later."

* * *

The warehouse was nothing special. The bare basics.

Still, Solomon Grundy and the Justice League found it suitable to their needs.

Some basic beds, and the occasional canned food was enough for now until they got a real base.

Solomon had been in captivity for months during the war, (before his curse was inflicted by the Germans) so he was used to scrounging. Granted he didn't have to eat now that he was undead. But it was the small things that let him know he was human at least in spirit.

Gadgeteer too, was homeless before he was taken in by a family that cared for him. Poor kid abandoned by his parents, he turned to tinkering and mechanics' work to get by. Solomon found him, and decided to support him, despite not having a roof over his own head. Those who stick together survive together.

The Quizzer and Starlight Sapphire on the other hand had just recently joined the League, and promised to assist them in finding a home (and maybe some benefactors) once they made some progress here. But for now, it was better to just stay in one place. Especially considering who oversaw Bludhaven, The Crow, it would look suspicious for Supers to just come in and out of town every other day; and they would eventually be traced back to their places of origin and hunted down. They didn't need that noise. Not yet. They needed to be noticed first. Progressively, mind you. Crow would probably come running to a natural disaster on the first day, but would wait until a month's opposition to investigate otherwise. Once people saw a beacon of hope, they could use it to stand up for themselves. Rebel against the villains and scum that have reduced them to near-nothing. And finally take their town back.

They had just come back from stopping a mass-mugging, and confidence was high. The only one worried was Solomon. They had recently traded up from fighting basic hoods (which they still did) to battling The Crow's men directly. The plan was to be noticed, after all. And sooner or later they would be. For better or worse.

"You're worrying too much, mate." Says Quizzer, twirling his cane in his hand. "We did some good. Relish in it."

"Maybe." Says Solomon, flicking another piece of dead skin off his shoulder. Being undead had it's advantages, but also it's nuisances. Felt like an animal whenever he started shedding skin. His compatriots didn't seem to mind, but glances from onlookers reminded him of what he was now. "How's Carol doing?"

"Peachy." Says The Quizzer, making a sign with his eyebrows.

"Were you two...?" Asks Solomon.

"Eh...Yeah...Sorry..." Says the Quizzer.

Gadgeteer walks towards the two. An Oriental teenager wise beyond his years, he serves as the team's gadgets expert and hacker. Sort of like Owlman...only good.

"Careful of love." He says. "It's powerful, but it can hamper ya too. Keep it outta the field, yeah?"

"I dun' need ta be ear-bashed by the kid that's barely got pubes." Says the Quizzer jokingly. "I know when ta keep it in me daks."

Solomon just shakes his head, priming back his long hair in the process. He notices Carol staring out the window nervously.

"What is it, Carol?" Asks Solomon.

"There's this guy that keeps walking nearby the warehouse..." Says Carol.

"This is a public city, sheila." Says The Quizzer.

"He's circled the place five times now and occasionally tries to look in." Says Carol. "I don't like this."

"Neither do I." Says Solomon. "Gadgeteer, send one of you're little friends to greet him, but be subtle."

"Can do." Says the Gadgeteer, pressing a button on a remote control.

A small bug-shaped robot churns to life, flying out of a hole in the warehouse roof. The mech uses it's sensors to detect the onlooker.

"Real subtle." Sarcastically chirps Grundy.

"I try." Chuckles the Gadgeteer in response.

"Uh-oh!" Shouts the onlooker, as he prepares to run. He is in no danger however, as a blast away from the two finds itself hitting the robot, reducing it to a pile of ashes in the process. Prompt another blast near the onlooker's foot to scare him off. What scared Grundy the most though were barel visible shadows moving on the rooftop across the way...and they were getting bigger.

Carol and the others are understandably spooked.

"We've been found!" Says Solomon. "Justice League, prepare for combat!"

So, Crow finally played his hand. Hopefully defeating him would give them the chance to clean up Bludhaven. Send a positive message. They were definitely noticed now. Understatement of the millennium.

They've been waiting. Small raids, basic hamperings. Taking out small parties of Crow's men. Just waiting for him to notice.

If they could just take him out, maybe there'd be some hope for this city yet.

Still, this was too soon. He clearly underestimated The Crow, or overestimated The League's strategy.

The Quizzer prepares his staff, while Star Sapphire presses her ring, as a combat costume envelopes her. The Gadgeteer begins outfitting himself with basic weaponry.

All Solomon could do was crack his knuckles. Finally, he'd get his hands on the asshole that essentially destroyed Bludhaven. And once they took him down...Maybe others would follow suit. "_Not now._" Grundy thought to himself. "_Baby steps_."

Just then, a red-blue streak bursts through the entrance, as wall parts and debris fall everywhere.

The streak reveals itself to be none other than Ultraman, the Villain of Steel.

"Heya there." Says Ultraman. "Did we miss the party?"

Owlman, Superwoman, and The Crow jump in from what remained of the windows, while Slipstream rushes next to Ultraman in a nanosecond.

Solomon Grundy couldn't help but hold back a swallow. Not just The Crow, Two crime-lords and three renegade Supers, one he recognized as local. Were they banding together?!

He and Starlight were the only real Supers of the League. This could be a problem.

"Suggestions, Boss?" Asks The Quizzer.

"Well, well. Looks like we gotta couple a' boy scouts." Says Ultraman.

"Boy Scouts don't get very far in Bludhaven." Says Owlman.

"Especially when they're wasting money..." Says Slipstream.

"And I control the money around here. " Says The Crow. "And if you're wasting money...You're insulting _me_."

"Is that all that matters to you?!" Asks Solomon, appalled. "People are dying in the street, laying in their own filth while Supers and Costumes like you prowl around and prey on what little of a world is left."

"People like you are what make this world the way it is!" Starlight Sapphire shouts, hovering next to Solomon.

"We don't need mob bosses 'round here, we need soup kitchens!" Shouts The Quizzer.

"Oh, really?" Says The Crow. "Before I came, this city had no purpose. It just existed; like a wart on the body. It had nothing unique to offer. Just another town as unmiraculously boring as the colonies of old. But now that I'm here, Bludhaven has more money than Jed Matthews has accrued in his lifetime! And if you control the money, you control everything. And with control..."

"...You can make things happen." Chimes in Owlman.

"Then why haven't you?" Asks Gadgeteer. "For five years, we've been under your boot-heel, yet you haven't done a damn thing for this city. No kitchens, no studios...Not even a casino, which I imagine would be up your alley. But no, you just take, and take, and take. You haven't even expanded!"

"I don't feel like it." Replies The Crow. "This city is mine. It's people are mine. And that's all that matters. The strong take from the weak. That's how life is."

"That's what you do with power. You use it." Says Superwoman in agreement.

Slipstream notices the oddity that is Superwoman and The Crow in any sort of agreement, but keeps it to himself.

"I've been tortured and put through hell. But y'know what? I bounced back. People can progress. These so-called 'weak' piss-ants you belittle have a strength idiots like the lot of you will never have. Strength of heart." Says Grundy. "And no, it isn't about control at all. You just like fucking with people."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who's to say?" Replies The Crow with an evil smirk.

The rest of the villains chose not to say anything. Owlman however just watched proudly.

If his eyes had been visible, they'd be beaming out of joy.

Solomon just growls violently.

"Whatsamatter?" Asks Ultraman. "Doggie wanna bite?"

"Justice League, let's take this city back! Kick some ass!" Solomon shouts, signaling the League to attack.

"Boys...Shut these pussies up." Says Ultraman, watching calmly with folded arms.

The tension that had enveloped the warehouse had exploded into outright chaos.

Ultraman and Grundy rushed towards each other like two rabid dogs. Owlman and the Gadgeteer went head-to-head, while The Crow throws an Owlrang at The Quizzer who replies in kind with a missile of his own. Superwoman and Starlight Sapphire begin trading blows. Slipstream traverses the battlefield, causing mischief for pretty much everybody that wasn't a friend.

* * *

Solomon Grundy blocks a punch from Ultraman by trapping Ultra's fist in his grasp. He delivers a punch with his other fist that sends Ultra flying back.

Ultra replies with an extension of laser beams. The beams end up stunning him long enough for a rush-punch. Ultraman then issues a smorgasbord of attacks, each one audibly cracking bones and sinew. Of course, Grundy being undead; this doesn't hamper him as much as it would the common person. After the barrage, Grundy cracks his arms back into regular place and re-enters the fray.

"Y'know the good thing about zombies?" Grundy says. "We always come back!"

"All it takes is a headshot..." Replies Ultraman, aiming a set of eye-lasers at Grundy's head. Grundy puts up a rotting arm in defense. He barely reacts to the roasting of his flesh, instead slowly progressing towards Ultraman, similar to a heavy-armored knight.

Ultraman quickly catches on to Grundy's strategy and fires a vat of freezing breath at the ground Grundy was walking on.

All it does is stop Grundy from moving forward. Grundy uses his weight to prevent himself from falling by moving as little as possible.

Solomon manages to use the ice to propel him away from the frozen area...Only for Slipstream to run up from behind, circling Solomon to form a miniature tornado.

"Don't turtle! It gets ya banned!" Shouts Slipstream as he speeds up progressively. As he runs faster and faster, Solomon begins shedding even more skin. The shedding intensifies, as even skin tissue and weak muscles begin spreading.

"Makin' a mess there, Slippy!" Shouts Ultraman jokingly.

"AAAAGGGHHH!" Shouts Solomon, not out of pain, but frustration.

Slipstream eventually reaches the highest speed he can maintain without destroying the warehouse.

In a messy spectacle, Solomon's arms and legs find themselves on the ground, as Slipstream slows down.

Grundy's head finally lands smack-dab between Ultraman and Slipstream.

Unlike what they expected, the head remained dead rather than talk.

"Should we dismantle the head, too?" Asks Slipstream.

"Nah. It's crueler to leave 'em like that." Replies Ultraman.

"Good point." Replies the speedster.

* * *

Starlight Sapphire meanwhile assaults Superwoman with a barrage of constructs in an aerial battle. She starts with an alien flying creature, of whose fake wings Superwoman rips apart.

"Try to be creative, honey." Superwoman says smugly.

"Good idea." Replies Sapphire, as the second construct transforms into a doppelganger of Superwoman that rushes at the original.

"I claim copyright infringement!" Chuckles Superwoman, punching through the construct with ease.

It withstands a single attack, and prepares to resume it's struggle.

However, a red blur catches the construct from behind, dismantling it before moving on.

_"Maybe Slipstream wasn't such a wimp, after all. Nah, it was just a fluke."_ Superwoman thinks to herself as she brandishes her lasso, throwing it at Starlight Sapphire.

Sapphire thinks ahead, forming a wall with her ring that renders the lasso harmless.

She then forms construct missiles, which are fired at Superwoman.

Superwoman begins flying in eccentric loops, causing most of the missiles to collide into one another. Three of the missiles are still hot on her tail. With haste, she rushes towards Star Sapphire, causing her to put up a construct shield. At the last minute however, Superwoman flies upward just above Sapphire.

The enemy realizes too late as the missiles collide with her. The first one breaks her shield, while the other two knock her to the ground. Superwoman finally slams her fist into the downed Sapphire's thighs, knocking the wind out of her. Broken and battered, Superwoman walks to her defeated enemy.

"H-How...?" Sapphire mouths.

'If I wasn't holding back..." Superwoman whispers into Sapphire's ear. "...You'd be a mess of gibs right now. But don't worry...I'm sure The Crow'll think of something more creative. And if he doesn't...Oooh, the fun we'll have together!"

Defeated and taunted, Sapphire enters into a shock-induced seizure, with Superwoman's smile being the last sight she sees before finally giving out.

* * *

The Quizzer is in direct conflict with The Crow, exchanging martial arts attacks.

"Good on ya." Says The Quizzer, as Owlman dodges staff swipe after staff swipe. "Yer livin' yer rep."

The Crow keeps a watchful eye on every one of The Quizzer's movements.

"Got a quiz for ya. First question: Can an Owl fly without wings? They're birds, of course they can't!"

After another seven swipes, The Crow removes his retractable Bo-staff, splitting it into two sections with which he uses to immobilize The Quizzer's cane. With a jerk, he uses the segments like a fork, throwing the staff (And by extenstion, The Quizzer) downwards onto the ground. The Quizzer however performs a back-flip, staff and all. Pointing it at The Crow, more missiles come flying out of the question mark-shaped cane.

"Gonna take more'n that ta walk away with the million dollar prize!"

The Crow begins rushing towards The Quizzer, dodging projectiles using a mixture of flips and contortions that many would see as impossible. No, nothing was impossible. Especially for one trained and honed from infancy to move. To weave.

Dick Grayson had always been a gifted acrobat. Working from a young age as a circus performer alongside his parents, his life was forever changed when a band of corrupt cops sabotaged The Flying Graysons' circus equipment in retaliation for some of his father's whistleblowing, causing his parents to fall to their deaths in what would be their final performance. Dick survived, but developed a pathological hatred of law and order. The villainous crime boss Owlman saw the parallel to himself in Dick, and in an act of most rare kindness, took the boy in like a son. He taught him all about criminology, stealth tactics, martial arts, and the idiosyncrasies and hypocrisy of the law; before releasing unto the world: A trained killer forever destined to do battle with so-called heroes and do-gooders. To battle the concept of law itself. And so far he was winning. At least in Bludhaven.

Whilst dodging the projectiles, The Crow assembles his Bo-Staff segments into a singular weapon. The moment he gets within attack range, Dick swipes the surprised Quizzer's chin with the staff, stunning the foe. Continuous strikes to The Quizzer's chest area pressed him further towards the wall, having dropped his combat-cane after the second. Upon hitting the wall, The Crow delivers an impact with an edge-end of the staff unto the middle The Quizzer's right arm. The CRACK is audible throughout the warehouse.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" Screams The Quizzer.

"Here's a quiz for **you**." Says The Crow. "Question one: What have I just broken? That would be your ginglymus, also called the hinge joint; which allows you to bend and move your arm."

The Crow delivers another blow, this time to a very specific point on his left leg. The screams begin to intensify.

"Question Two: Will you ever walk again? Not without surgery." Says The Crow. "Your leg getting heavier? That's your meniscus shattering. In other words, I've destroyed what lets you disperse your weightfrom your legs, like a chair support."

The Crow backs off as The Quizzer is forced onto one knee due to his injuries.

"You fucking-" He starts, before being interrupted by another staff swipe, this time to the stomach. The blow forces out blood.

He was new to the whole superhero gig. Sure, he could handle himself, but the choice to don a costume wasn't one he took lightly. A lot of heroes were your cookie-cutter "save the day" type. Usually grim and gritty, given the overabundance of super-villains nowadays. But someone light-hearted, maybe not hip, but quirky...Maybe that kind of hero would garner some attention. Raise some spirits. Unfortunately, it looks like it attracted the wrong kind of attention. Edward Nigma didn't feel bad, though. There was good in even the smallest of actions. Even the one code he was about to violate...

The Quizzer digs into his left pocket with his free hand, taking out a gun.

"I...I knew this would happen...But maybe I can take one of you bastards with me..." Says The Quizzer, as he aims directly at The Crow.

Being faster, The Crow swipes at the free arm with his Bo-staff, as the weapon falls harmlessly onto the ground.

"Last question: Will I let you live long enough to use you as an example? **You** answer **me**." Says The Crow, aiming his weapon right at his enemy's throat. An impact in the right place would kill The Quizzer outright, or at least turn him into a vegetable. Depended on how creative Crow felt at the moment.

"F...Fuck you..." Says The Quizzer.

"Wrong answer." Says The Crow.

No creativity this time. Business before pleasure.

Thing about that, pleasure WAS business.

The Crow twirls his staff briefly, before slamming it onto the back of The Quizzer's neck. The instantaneous impact disrupts The Quizzer's connection to his spinal chord, killing him instantly.

The corpse lumps to the floor, as audible echoes of sorrow emanate from his allies.

* * *

"NOOO! Edward!" Shouts The Gadgeteer, who just witnessed the first casualty of the Justice League. "Monsters!"

The Gadgeteer was a gifted inventor.

Mechanical robots, a jet-pack, attack weapons...

How had this kid slipped under Owlman's radar?

If he hadn't had Damian under his wing, he might've recruited this kid. Unfortunately, he didn't seem physically strong. A Talon needed a well-rounded skill-set.

Owlman hurls two Owlrangs at more of the Gadgeteer's bug mechs.

The enemies were small, but annoying.

Of course, dodging the Gadgeteer's various contraptions was also of importance.

Unfortunately for the hero, there wasn't always strength in numbers.

The Gadgeteer flies towards Owlman using a jet-pack, unleashing a metallic fist from one of the arms on his jet-pack.

Owlman quickly takes out a gun-shaped contraption, firing it at one of the supports of the Gadgeteer's jet-pack.

The jet-pack was apparently electrically-powered, as the electromagnetic pulse fired from Owlman's gadget causes The Gadgeteer to swerve randomly, eventually nicking a nearby wall.

The nick wasn't enough to crash-land him, but it definitely messed up his navigation. Any attack plan he may have had was cinched.

Owlman fires again, only for the enemy to get his bearings and swerve out of the way.

"I won't fall for the same trick twice." Says The Gadgeteer.

He didn't have to. The gun was just a distraction from the Grenade he had thrown down.

An EMP Grenade, designed to disable electronics by sending an electro magnetic pulse, disrupting the electric flow of every electronic within range. Owlman went out of his way to increase the force of his projectile weapons beyond their typical limit. A little tinker here, a program there...Sure, this required hours upon hours of busywork, But the results never lied.

It detonates, just as the Gadgeteer (Owlman thought that name was a mouthful) was aiming a blade-arm at the Caped Collabateur.

The explosion knocks the foe from his robotic perch, (breaking the blade as well) as a defeated boy crawls from the inert wreckage.

Owlman walks towards his fallen foe, standing menacingly over The Gadgeteer.

The Gadgeteer quickly presses a hidden button mounted to his belt buckle, expressing clear surprise when it does nothing.

"A modified EMP Grenade." Says Owlman. "Double the effect and force of your average military weapon. This didn't just disable your machines, it fried their circuitry. Without extensive repair, they'll never be useable again."

The Gadgeteer couldn't say anything at all. Sure, he had know-how. Portable mechs, missiles, transportation vehicles...but Owlman was clearly on another level. He hadn't expected to win the fight, but he fought anyway. Didn't lessen the sting of defeat, though.

"I must say this is good work...For someone with little resources." Says Owlman, picking up a fraction of the now fractured blade-arm. "How you obtained these materials is a curiosity in and of itself."

Owlman throws the wreckage portion to the ground with utter indifference.

"I had you pegged as better than this, and you didn't satisfy." Continues the villain. "Shame, really. A part of me considered taking you in. Not as anything official, mind you...but an asset, perhaps. Pity then that I must dispose of you. Still, It's all the same I suppose. There would be that nagging conscience I'd have to break out of you. Too much time and hassle."

Owlman reaches into his utility belt, taking out a stylized blade, fashioned in the shape of a bird claw, which he grips with his left hand.

Using his right hand, he wraps his hand around the boy's throat, pulling him up off of the ground.

The Gadgeteer struggles futilely, as the grip of one much stronger than him proves naught to be released.

He was scared, he knew that for certain. But he knew the risks being a superhero entailed. Still, he was only human. (Ironic, really, considering his preference for machines in and out of combat) He couldn't lift buildings within a single bound or shoot lasers out of his ass, but he meant something. Solomon had taught him that. To see the others sprawled out on the floor in defeat didn't undermine it like he thought it would have.

In fact, the inside knowledge that Solomon could come back (Being a zombie) and Sapphire wasn't killed outright (Which means a possibility of escape) comforted him in a weird way.

Owlman faces the blade portion of his weapon to The Gadgeteer's neckline, inching it towards it's target.

As the pain from the slicing began to manifest, his eyes darted over to his defeated comrades.

There would be others.

Owlman released The Gadgeteer from his grip, the body landing into a now-developing pool of blood.

Gadgeteer's eyes yet again darted to the bodies of his comrades, as his own sight began to fade.

"Hope..." He mouths, as death finally catches him in it's embrace.

* * *

After the battle, the Syndicate re-convened in the center of the warehouse.

"Ok...Well, that happened." Says Ultraman casually. "Didn't have much fight to 'em, though."

"Doesn't matter." Says The Crow. "The thorns in my side are gone, and after a rumor or two, you all will have the build-up you need."

"It was boring, though." Says Superwoman. "They should've been harder to kill."

"They had potential." Says Owlman. "Leave it to having no resources, benefactors, or strategy."

"Besides, we still got that pink broad and the zombie." Says Ultraman. "They ain't dead...In the traditional sense, anyway."

Slipstream was uncharacteristically silent compared to the rest.

Ultraman looks at Slipstream, who appeared lost in thought.

"Something buggin' ya, champ?" Asks Ultraman.

"Nah." Says Slipstream. "Well...It's my first time in the field. Killing people, no less."

"Well, you technically didn't kill anybody." Says The Crow.

"I was still a part of it." Says Slipstream, visibly stressed now. "I'm just a thief that magically got powers. I...I'm not some assassin. I...I need to be alone right now!"

Slipstream rushes out of the warehouse, leaving a gust of wind in his wake.

Ultraman and Owlman look at each other knowingly.

"Sigh...I'll talk to 'im." Says Ultraman. "But first, what about the mess?"

"My people'll cover the mess." Says The Crow. "And I owe you all a favor now."

"How about relinquishing all of your territory?" Asks Superwoman jokingly.

"Don't push it." Replies The Crow. "Anyway, you all are forming a group, yes? Any thoughts on what you'll be calling yourselves?"

"None yet." Says Owlman. "We're sort of dipping our toes at the moment. A good team needs time and trust to develop. This isn't the same as going it solo."

"There you are again on friendship..." Says Superwoman.

"Friendship is a bonus...Or a side-effect, depending on your point of view." Replies Owlman icily. "Trust however, is universal. For better or worse."

"Speakin' of teams, why not have this kid join up?" Asks Ultraman, pointing at The Crow. "He's more'n capable."

"He's also the only one controlling Bludhaven, as well as my former protege." Says Owlman. "I'd be disrespecting him by prying him from his roost. Besides, now that we're piggybacking off of his popularity at the moment, we have stakes here; barring Superwoman of course. That has benefit. Why ruin that?"

"Your'e just worried about your little birdie." Says Superwoman mockingly, pounding her fists together. "And with good reason."

"So, we meetin' in Metropolis, like before?" Asks Ultraman.

"Fine." Says Owlman. "Now, if you'll excuse us, me and Crow have some catching up to do. Friday, Chezz Johny's. Be there. And make sure Mister Allen is as well."

Saying nothing else, The Owlman and his protege grappling-hook their way out of the building from the windows, leaving Ultraman and Superwoman alone.

"Sometimes I wonder just how close those two really are." Says Superwoman. "Maybe they're fuck buddies? Who knows?"

Ultraman stares Superwoman down, being sure to get her attention.

"Look, I know you ain't exactly a team player, but we ain't on Themyscira anymore." Says Ultraman sternly. "You can't just demean your teammates all the time. A quip's a quip, but eventually, somebody's gonna retaliate. And none of us are gonna help ya. At least not the way your actin' now."

"Who says I need any of you?!" Yells Superwoman. "I could break The Crow and deliver him to Pigeon-shit any day I want!"

Ultraman walks up to Superwoman, getting directly in her face.

"Play nice." Says Ultraman. "Or thing's'll **happen**."

"What are you gonna do? Huh?" Asks Superwoman angrily.

"You don't wanna find out." Says Ultraman, flying off without another word.

All Superwoman could do was stare at the shadow her body cast upon the floor of the warehouse.

* * *

Barry couldn't take it.

He had found his way to an isolated bench near the Bludhaven border.

He knew what he was getting , he had advance knowledge of these guys' M.O.'s, so why was he pussing out now?

He enjoyed the battle with the Justice League, certainly. Hell, it was awesome when he whipped up the tornado.

So, what was nagging at him?

Like The Crow said, he hadn't actually killed anyone. Grundy was dead from the get-go, and Ultraman did most of that damage.

Hell, all Slipstream did for much of the battle was run around being a dick, really.

"Hey, you ok?"

Slipstream turns to see Ultraman, hovering down onto the ground next to him.

"I wanted to be alone, you know." Says Slipstream.

"Sometimes, bein' alone can be just as unhealthy as influence." Says Ultraman. "You ain't the only one who's had to adjust."

"Your'e a super-villain." Says Slipstream. "Not a cheap hood or some pickpocket. You kill people as a** hobby**!"

"That's a big exaggeration, but that aside...Y'know I'm not from Earth, right?" Asks Ultraman. "Y'know? Krypton, military planet, insane guy blew it to shit?"

"And?"

"Soldiers have to be trained." Says Ultraman. "I wasn't no exception. I wasn't born an asshole. First time I incinerated a guy, I felt exactly what you're goin' through now. Kept askin' myself. 'Is this me?' 'How could I face myself?' But you adjust to it. It's kinda like gettin' laid. You feel guilty the very first time, but that goes away after a while. You keep tryin' and tryin'...And eventually, you adjust."

"I'm not sure if that's something I wanna adjust to." Says Slipstream.

"Then hang up the costume while you still can." Says Ultraman. "Look, we all got our uses. I'm the muscle, Owlman's the brain, Superwoman's...A crazy bitch, but that's between us."

"And me...?" Asks Slipstream, "What's the speedster thief that can barely make a dent in anybody got to offer?"

"You might not be the sharpest sword in the armory..."

"Gee, thanks." Says Slipstream.

"...But your'e crafty." Says Ultraman with a chuckle. "You fight dirty. And you can out-race any schmuck in the known world." Says Ultraman. "Might sound like a useless power, but like Owlman said: It ain't just about makin' things dead. And when you gotta make things dead, you do it fast, efficient. Owlman and me might make theatrical plays out of it, but you don't have to. What I'm sayin' is: Don't worry so much about it. It'll come natural. Until you feel your'e comfy, just focus on runnin' and gettin' shit done as best ya can. I know that ain't the most helpful advice, but..."

"Nah. It's...it's good." Says Slipstream, sighing heavily. "You tried, that's good enough. I'll sort the rest out on my own. For now, I just...gotta keep cool."

"There ya go." Says Ultraman smiling.

Ultraman gets up from the bench, hovering into the air.

"Well, gotta get home. Don't wanna miss MacGruber." Says Ultraman. "You gonna be alright?"

"I'll be just fine." Replies the speedster with a slight smile. "And...thanks."

"No prob." Says Ultraman, flying away. "Chezz Johnny's on Friday."

"Got it." Says Slipstream.

And with that, the two scatter.

* * *

"Sector 2814, again?"

"It isn't our fault Sinestro grew a conscience. You are our best operative after him, so it is only logical to send you." Says the Blue-skinned Overseer of the whiner. "Rumor abounds that he has escaped to Earth. Being from there, you shouldn't have any trouble searching for him...Would you, Mister Guy Gardner?"


End file.
